


The unfinished Gryffon

by KillJoys



Series: Dragon's Repose [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Comforting, F/M, Friendship, Prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2015-02-08
Packaged: 2018-03-11 03:57:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3313016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KillJoys/pseuds/KillJoys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During the days before the events of "The trouble with being the Herald"; Aphel and Blackwall discover more meaningful moments of friendship than learning carving techniques.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The unfinished Gryffon

**Author's Note:**

> As these two characters have so much in common, I present a short story giving some more context to Aphel as a character and her relationship with the companions in her own world before meeting Julien Trevelyan.

“Are you certain about this, your worship?”

“Yes. I am quite certain Blackwall.” Aphel squinted and held her hand as steady as she would her Greatsword Ophelia, aiming the razor sharp tool against her mark. “And stop calling me that here, I’m your student not your leader, got that?”

Blackwall tugged at his dark beard and grunted in agreement. “Then as the teacher, I’m telling you; you should be more aware of the angle of that hand.”

“And you should stop bloody well hovering over me like some arch demon! Then maybe I’ll be able to see what I’m doing!” Aphel retorted and struck the chisel into the soft wood.

With a disappointing snap, the head of her mabari splintered off almost completely.

“Mythal’enaste!”

Blackwall cleared his throat to disguise his chuckle. “Oh dear, well that’s that then. We’ll just work on a new one. Maybe something simpler?”

Aphel picked up her failed carving and inspected it from all angles. “This was the simplest design I could think of. Or should I carve an effigy of your creativity? Mr I-make-nothing-but-griffons? They’re cluttering up the fort.”

Blackwall rolled his eyes at her “Don’t take out your frustration on me. And I’ve only made… twelve.”

With a sigh she pocketed her small headless pup and turned, giving a gentle kick to the man’s ribs which he blocked easily “You know I don’t mean it Bear, let’s have a drink then? I need something to get my head spinning after all this concentration.”

The past few weeks had been more than hectic to say the least as attempts to settle the Orlesian civil war being fought in the Dales were going nowhere fast. Not only that, but a local Dalish clan were being drawn into the skirmish by the so called freemen and their summoned demons.  Josephine was hoping the matter would be settled at Halamshiral, sadly the truce at the winter palace was still a world away from those bloodying their swords in the trenches.

“I’d like to Aphel, but there’re some things I’ve got to do here. Not to mention Dennet has roped me into cleaning up the stables.” Blackwall rubbed his brow distastefully and looked around them in case the old horse-master was listening in. “Just because I sleep here doesn’t make me the damn stable boy, you know? Could you do me a favour and find someone to help the old man out? I’ve practically had him dogging my every step.”

 Aphel giggled at his expression but patted his shoulders reassuringly. “Anything for my warden. I’ll come back tomorrow, same time. Oh and take care of Fey for me, you know how he hates having mucky antlers” she winked mischievously.

As she trundled away, Blackwall turned to be confronted with the great blue eyes and silvery snout of the hart as it found itself caught red-handed snuffling through his clothes, a sock caught on one of its horns.

“You blighted beast!”

* * *

 

Solas wandered back and forth, contemplating the hue he was mixing for the new design. He’d found his mind flooded with many feelings, feelings he hadn’t expected to experience again, though he had hoped. Being here with the inquisition, having a strong guiding hand in the fate of the world left him reeling with stimulation and in some part dread to see such power being wrestled with to determine the fate of their very reality.

Seeing Aphel wielding it, forcing the retreat of those that wished destruction on them all, with such confidence and calmness had him thrilled. He hadn’t imagined that despite all the ruin he could find someone to share his heart, though that love brought with it so much pain.

“Vhenan, what is on your mind?”

Solas smirked at the sound of her voice and turned away from the wall to see her striding in, head tilted in consideration to read him better. It still amazed him how she did that.

“Colours.”

Aphel drew close and ran her hands up the sides of his arms and shoulders to rest with palms flat on his chest. “That sounds so lovely. Will you paint me when I’ve slayed the man-who-would-be-god? Shall I ride a dragon for your mural?”

Solas chuckled and with his thumb smeared a blot of vermillion across her cheek. “You are becoming a legend my love, soon you won’t need _me_ to paint you, the Herald’s face will be imprinted in the minds of all those who’ve been affected by this tragedy.”

Aphel frowned “That is only a face, a name for a guiding hand. Don’t talk to me like that’s all you are seeing.”

Solas had watched her ascension to leader of the Inquisition, watched her rise and fall and rise again like a beacon against the hailing blizzard of demons and corrupted power leaching all that was good from the world.

“No, I see you, flesh and blood. You’re breakable vhenan. So breakable.”

“I’m not afraid of them. I can’t afford to be.” She told him and stretched up on her toes, nestling against him forehead to forehead.

“I…I know that, but you’ve been in danger all the same.”

“It’s where I’m meant to be Solas. If not there, at the head of the battle, in the pits of the field, facing the dragon, then where else? On a throne? In my fortress?”

Of course she knew what to say to lead him to a dead path. She was tremendously smart with her words. Solas loved that challenge.

“You are not replaceable, I can’t be with you always and it frustrates me that you must be in so much peril simply because you have that thing on your hand. Let me study it more. Let me find some comfort in it Aphel.”

Aphel turned and held her hand up to the light, small flashes of white and green pulsed always inside her skin. “Knowing everything you can will ease your worry, will it?”

Solas pouted. “It would certainly help.”

“Alright then, but I want to you to teach me more of the old Elvhen you know, and you must let me get you some better armour. We harvested that entire dragon skin and I want you to be well equipped if we clash with another.” She grinned at him and jumped up onto his desk.

“Must you? I’ve had these robes for-“

“For far too long.”

“Get off my desk.”

“No I shan’t.”

“I don’t like dragon skin. It is too heavy.”

“I’ll lighten it. No more excuses. Agree.”

Solas groaned “Alright. You’ve got what you want.”

“I thought this was about what _you_ want?” Aphel asked playfully.

“That’s what I thought as well.”

She stepped down from the table and lounged in the arms of his rarely used seat, holding her arm out dramatically. “Very well messere, do what you must.”

“I am no messere, my lord will do just fine.” Solas leaned against his desk and held her left hand gently in his own, running his fingertips over the mark.

“I can’t even tell if you are joking Solas.”

Solas remained silent though Aphel could hear the thoughts rushing through his head as loud as the roar of an autumn gale.

“What are you thinking?”

He glanced up at her eyes, then turned and began pacing in his usual loop. “I do have an Idea.”

Aphel brought herself up suddenly “Yes? What is it?”

“I need time to consider it.”

“Oh!” She threw her hands up and fell back into the seat “Solas, I demand you tell me your idea. Or I’ll make that armour rainbow coloured.”

Solas grimaced “you would… Alright. You recall the time-space magic Alexius used?”

“I’ll never forget that Solas. I saw you there… you and Leliana, Blackwall and Sera. I can’t see that again Solas.” She clenched her fist tightly to seal away the mark.

Solas quickly crossed the distance to her and held her face in his hands “No vhenan, no of course not. This isn’t like that. What I mean is, if there was some way to…pull you out of danger if it ever became necessary, using your mark as a key, or even as an anchor to open a door in space, theoretically we could use it to pull you through.”

“Teleportation?” Aphel gaped at the idea. “Solas the last time I went physically into the fade, we came back one man short.”

“This isn’t the fade, it is something in-between. The ancient Elvhen used the eluvian to access it. If we can weave the key to the correct dimension, I believe it can work.”

She loved that look he had, like he’d spotted the answer when no one else had even known the question. Not only that, but he always trapped her in his claws at the mention of learning more of the Elvhen history.

She raised her eyes and peered at his through her lashes “Well then? Tell me what you are scheming.”

* * *

 

Aphel folded over the limp piece of lettuce on her plate. “This is nothing like the food I used to eat.”

Dorian chuckled and raised a skewered vegetable and brought it up close to his nose, turning it this way and that for a proper inspection. “I suppose the Dalish must have a fascinating cuisine. Tevinter has peelers at the very least.”

“You shouldn’t peel your vegetables Dorian” called Cassandra who was vigorously hewing at her blackened mead. “The skin contains the most nutrients.”

“Learn that in the seeker’s trials did we? I don’t remember culinary classics being on the list of Templar skills.”

Varric flung a pea to the mage, hitting his moustache perfectly and bouncing off to roll across the tavern floor “Dorian do stop riling up our seeker. You’ll lose your balls.”

“Ha! _That_ would be disappointing.” Shouted The Iron bull, followed by a cacophonous laughter from the Chargers.

“It’s just a bit of charred root, would you eat it already?” Grumbled Blackwall sternly.

Aphel sighed and dropped her fork back down. “Solas is worried about me.”

“Worried about you? Solas? Why on earth would chuckles be worried?” Varric drawled sarcastically and tore at his meat.

“I think it should be quite obvious Varric. She’s leading an army.” Cassandra parried.

“Oh come on, an army?”

“Close enough, in fact I would say it is even more than that. Nothing for her is simple anymore.”

“Thanks for reminding me Cass.” Aphel sighed. “What can I do to reassure him? The fact is I am the damned “Herald” and I can’t escape from that. Even if it kills me.”

Blackwall looked to Aphel’s burnt out expression “your worship, I know-“

Sera made a sound that began as a giggle and turned into a groan and slapped a slice of buttered bread against Aphel’s face.

“Sera I adore you but I can kill you with one hand.” Aphel growled and peeled away the bread to reveal her scowl and everyone at the table laughed without repeal.

Sera jumped away quickly, almost tripping on Varric “YOU CAN TRY YOUR WORSHY BUT I’ll out run you…”

Aphel scooped her up and began tickling her fiercely even as she squealed madly and kicked, toppling their table and everyone’s meals with it.

“Oh shit! Aphel, Sera, you! You’re lucky this robe was going for a wash tomorrow.” Dorian pouted and zapped at the rogue’s heals.

“No! NO magic Dorian!” Sera yelled and kicked at his hands from the ground.

“Will you lot CUT IT OUT!” shouted the bartender who began shooing them out until Cassandra stared him down.

“Look boss, everyone has something that makes them afraid, same way everyone has something that makes them feel safe. You just gotta know what those things are and when to use them.” The Iron Bull told her.

Aphel looked to him quizzically. “You are far too smart to be this handsome.”

“HAH! I like that.” He laughed and slammed down his ale.

* * *

 

After most had left, Aphel remained with her finger mixing the dark black ale in her mug as the bard strummed away her new song about the grey wardens.

“Sweet sounding song she’s cooked up, don’t you think?” Blackwall dropped into the seat beside her and raised his hand for a glass.

“Yes, one of her best I’d say. Though I wouldn’t think you would like it so much.” Aphel turned to give him an apprehensive smile.

“Truth is the truth isn’t it? It might not be as sweet as the lies, but it won’t lead you astray.”

“That is the best metaphor I’ve heard from you yet Blackwall.” Aphel fist-bumped his shoulder playfully.

“I do my best.” He snorted. “So… do you want to talk?”

Aphel picked up her mug and swallowed a mouthful while she considered her answer. “Yes. I think I’d like that.”

Blackwall had become something of a mentor to Aphel ever since he had agreed to join the inquisition and on many levels he had become the first human she trusted as much as she trusted herself. He was a warden, a symbol of the world’s defiance against the all-consuming inevitability of the blight. His very blood tainted as he gives every ounce of his strength to protect the future.

Aphel admired his subtle contributions, his steady and calm approach to training combatants that led to the growth of instinctive fighters able to withstand the onslaught of both demons and the tainted. He was a private man, and she respected his dedication and loyalty along with his willingness to accept almost any challenge, always there to give her support by means of a shield at her back or a comforting friend at her side.

“We’re going to try to use the mark for teleportation.”

Blackwall remained silent with a quirked eyebrow.

“I know it sounds impossible…” She stretched her hands out infront of her and felt her elbows pop.

“Your worship, I’m no expert on magic but this sounds a lot like that mage Alexius’ magic- which from what you told me was the most terrifying this you ever seen.”

Aphel recalled her constant nightmares of red-lyrium lasting months from the moment they left Redcliffe and even now the image of her friends, taken over, controlled, mindless… it made her nauseous.

“No it isn’t like that. Not with time, just… space. If something happens, I might be able to get away from danger. If I die there will be no way to seal the rifts anymore…” Aphel covered her mouth and closed her eyes. “The world would be doomed.”

Blackwall considered her statement and could agree completely with Solas’ argument. The Herald was their saviour, not just Ferelden, not just Orlais, all of Thedas, all of the _world_ was held in the palm of her hand. But the darkness below her eyes and the almost imperceptible tremble of her hand gave away something to him that reminded him far too much of himself.

“You’re not afraid of dying, you’re afraid of living aren’t you?”

Aphel’s eyes shot to him in that instant and with her brows drawn together a shudder ran through her chest. She closed her eyes tightly and covered her face, not brave enough to open her mouth for fear of the sound that would escape. How could he see through her so easily?

“Solas wants to do this thing to keep you safe, but you don’t want to be safe. Am I reading this right?” He turned away from her and palmed his mug again, staring down into the thick black drink that was given a name reminiscent of something you would see in the chamber pot the day after a long night out.

“I can’t stand the thought of leaving to safety while people die for me, Bear. I’ve done so much damage. I don’t deserve this much power. I don’t deserve to be the one who is protected.”

“Why not?”

She trembled once more, still hiding her face. “What do you mean? So many people’s lives have been laid down for me to step over. I _had_ to pick up that stupid relic!”

“Some ancient _bastard”_ he spat the word _“_ thinks he can make himself a god, and you blame yourself for fighting against him? All of those people should be proud to serve you Aphel.”

Aphel snapped then and crashed her fists down to create a splinter in the wood as heads turned to stare at her back.

“You think people should be _happy_ to die for me? Because I’m some sort of _prophet?_ I didn’t want this Blackwall! I’m only still here because I can’t see _any_ other way to make up for what I’ve done!”

She couldn’t sit there anymore and decided to leave the tavern for the cool night air but Blackwall followed close behind with concerned steps. Knowing he wouldn’t leave her alone tonight after that particular display , she stopped when she reached the bottom of the steps and sat down to watch the bright moon shining down onto the empty courtyard.

“And what exactly have you done?” Blackwall whispered, sitting beside her as she trembled and clenched her teeth.

She looked up, her amber eyes stinging with red now, and took in his soft, concerned eyes, attempt to read her thoughts.

“I got my Clan killed, Bear, my family. I killed my brother Fey, my Hahren, and Keeper, my friends; Deneve, Flynn, Maeid, Cypress, Talle. I’m so sick of myself. I’m the inquisitor, I’m the herald, I’m… I’m just trash. I…” she raised her left hand that throbbed uncontrollably along with her pounding heart, its repulsive green glow made her want to vomit and violently slash at it. Dig it out of her skin. “I can’t go on like this. I can’t agree with being protected while others die in my place. It happened in Alexius’ reality too. Solas loves me so much and he died to give me those few seconds to escape. It’s unbearable how much I love him. I can’t see that happen again. To anyone.”

So this was the despair eating away at his herald. Guilt, and fear. Blackwall sat for a moment to take it all in. He could almost laugh at himself back before the breach, so full of his own ideas and assumptions of what the world _really_ needed and what part he would play.

When sky tore open however and she’d walked up to him, a short dark haired Dalish elf holding a great-axe larger than her own torso, her mahogany skin and clothes splattered with blood and flecks of gore, he couldn’t have helped but be taken aback. She was wild.

_“You’re the grey warden training villagers? I have a few questions that need answering.”_

He followed her from that day on, watched her battle monsters from the fade with a flick of her wrist. Nothing could make him question that this divine hand was the one he needed to stand behind. Her simple light shone over his dark past and gave him back a resolve and a task to lead him to redemption.

Seeing her now so crumpled by the weight of that light was heartbreaking.

“I’m sorry about your clan. Herald- Aphel... You’ve done more for me and every single person, human, dwarf, qunari, and elf in Thedas. You’ve given them hope, a reason to fight. Without you, all of us would still die with nothing to cling to but the crumbling dirt under our feet. With you here, guiding and leading us, we have a chance to survive.” Blackwall ran his hand through his hair and cleared his throat. “If you’ve still got doubt, all you need to do is look down over that wall.”

It wasn’t often he spoke as much as this, not finding it an easy thing to spin words like that, but he meant every word of it. Aphel looked towards the lower courtyard, packed to the brim with the tents of inquisition agents sleeping safely, more safely than they would be anywhere else. She smiled.

“Bear, you are so fucking charming. What the hell are you doing sleeping in the stables? With that tongue I wonder why Josephine hasn’t simply pounced on you yet.”

Aphel tugged on his beard playfully as he blushed in the moonlight. Blackwall was something else, she wondered how such a hero could be so humble.

“Don’t tease a bear,” He said and he pointed to her heart. “I can’t tell you to forget of all of that, it will still be there until you accept it. But I want you to know that what you’re doing is good. I don’t doubt that your family would agree with me and if they could, they would support you every step of the way.”

She laughed sadly at that and felt her chest bubble with his comforting words. Perhaps he was right, if she could keep the world safe, even if it was painful, she could at least redeem herself.

“Thank you. I’ll tell Solas that I want to try out his Idea. I promise I’ll do everything I can to make up for the mistakes I’ve made.”

Blackwall smiled but still sighed. How could she think that she had anything to make up for. If anything, _he_ was the one needing to repent. But that was something he couldn’t tell her. Something he wasn’t yet prepared to face, imagining her looking down at him, golden vallaslin twisted with hate and disgust, knowing what scum he really was. He was being selfish, he knew.

“You need to have a good night’s rest your worship. I’ll see you tomorrow for your lesson.”

Aphel lent into him and pressed her face into his chest for comfort. “You too, Bear.”

* * *

 

Blackwall scraped the match against the well-worn wood of his workbench and carefully protected the flame until his candle was lit. A letter sat ominously, its seal broken neatly at the seam when it was opened a few days ago. The words turned his stomach. An innocent man was going to die to pay for the murder of another. It was unjust, it was madness, and neither Blackwall nor Aphel would stand for such injustice. It was time he set things right. Redeemed his past and owned up for his mistakes. It would be hard to leave her, Aphel and all of those he had come to consider friends, but now was the eleventh hour. It was his time to lay down his life for the good of one innocent man at least. Finally Tom Rainier could set things right again.


End file.
